


wrap your tendrils around my chest

by forochel



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - What Can I Do MV Trilogy, Coming of Age, High School, M/M, Slice of Life, shojo anime feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forochel/pseuds/forochel
Summary: Time was like the river -- it ran ever forward.Third year, they were split up into different classes."You studied harder than me, for once," Sungjin said ruefully as they looked at the class rankings around the time the last snows were melting."You were distracted," Wonpil replied.--Wonpil lets go. Makes new friends. Time does its work.(Something else maybe grows in the newly opened spaces of his life.)
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil, Kim Wonpil & Park Jinyoung (GOT7), Kim Wonpil & Park Sungjin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 85





	wrap your tendrils around my chest

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fantasy based on fictional representations of real people. If you have a problem with this and/or know any of the people, please close this tab.
> 
> I saw [this 뮵영필 fanart](https://twitter.com/chuuberup6/status/1292172058059632640) on like Monday, went into a fugue state for three days, and emerged with a 7k+ baby. 
> 
> title is from pools, by glass animals.

* * *

"You dropped this." Wonpil held out the crotcheted charm he'd got at a fair in elementary school. "On the bus, the other day."

Underneath the bridge, the post-rain waters of the swollen, unnamed tributary to the Han rushed on by.

Sungjin looked momentarily surprised, then briefly touched. He held out his hand, palm up, on the bridge railing.

"Ah, thanks."

Wonpil watched Sungjin's fingers curl over the old raggedy thing, and then forced his eyes away.

"Mmmm. How would you recognise your bag, otherwise."

He looked back down at the water. Wondered what it would have been like, if he'd accidentally dropped the rabbit into the stream instead. Let it be carried away down to the Han, out to sea. Carry all these heavy, sweet-painful feelings that had been weighing down this friendship with it. Far, far away.

The thought exercise should be enough. He hoped it would be enough.

*

Time was like the river — it ran ever forward.

Third year, they were split up into different classes.

"You studied harder than me, for once," Sungjin said ruefully as they looked at the class rankings around the time the last snows were melting.

"You were distracted," Wonpil replied.

Behind them, Kang Younghyun let out a snort that didn't quite manage to be inaudible. _His_ name was listed two slots down from Wonpil's, even though he always seemed to be more interested on whatever was outside the window he sat next to. They ostensibly went to the same hagwon, after self-study hours, but Wonpil rarely ever saw him there.

Stepping aside, Wonpil politely said, "Congratulations. I'll get out of your way now."

There was an amused gleam in those sharp eyes, an almost-smirk that seemed to warm that usually cold face. "You weren't in my way, Wonpil-sshi. Congratulations to you too." Kang Younghyun dipped his head at him and Sungjin both, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Wonpil stared after him, stunned. "What the hell was that about?"

"I think he was calling you short," Sungjin said helpfully. He sounded like he was repressing laughter, like he wasn't only a scant centimeter taller than Wonpil himself.

"I hate you," said Wonpil resentfully, shuffling aside so that their yearmates could look for their own rankings.

"But not Kang Younghyun?"

"I'm too scared of him to hate him."

Sungjin barked out a laugh. "Oh, so you just go for easy targets."

Wonpil shoved him as they just got to their classroom door, but to no avail. Sungjin had the weight advantage on him.

"I'll be glad to be rid of you next year."

He watched Sungjin pull a truly hideous face, feeling fond and happy. Maybe still a little too fond, but every day he felt that sick pull a little less. He would die before admitting this to anyone, but he thought this was going to be a good thing.

*

"Hello, Kim Wonpil, right?" said a boy he'd seen around before, from class 2B or 2C. He had big eyes, big ears, and a tentative smile on. Always got Valentine's Day chocolates. "Do you want to sit together?"

"Oh!" Wonpil shuffled across the aisle to one of the double seat tables "Yes, sure, um —"

"Park Jinyoung."

"Jinyoung-sshi," said Wonpil, a little embarrassed.

In quick order, they decided to be friendly since they were going to be seatmates, discovered a mutual oddball sense of humour, and mutual tendency to philosophise at length.

The door slid open a few minutes before the bell rang, and Kang Younghyun sloped in.

"Damn," murmured Jinyoung. "Does he always look like that?"

"Faintly murderous?"

Jinyoung snorted. "Yes."

Wonpil was about to reply in the affirmative, when Younghyun spotted him and — very uncooperatively — looked marginally less murderous.

"Found a new soulmate already?" he asked as he drew level with their desk. He paused for a moment, backpack hanging insouciantly off one shoulder.

Wonpil only had time to make an indignant noise while Younghyun rapped his knuckles against Wonpil's table, and loped off to the back.

"I guess not always, then." Jinyoung looked speculative, when Wonpil turned back to him. "You were classmates?"

"Yeah, and in middle school too."

"Maybe he wanted to sit with you." Jinyoung looked mischievous, in a way that elicited a responding grin. "Maybe I should fear for my life now."

That made Wonpil laugh, the awful hiccupping thing people always made fun of. But Jinyoung wasn't laughing at him; he was laughing along.

"Impossible," Wonpil told him. "He's a back corner guy, always."

*

The shuffle in rankings at the end of second year meant that there were quite a few new faces in his class this year, other than Jinyoung.

People who weren't maybe used to the way Kim Seolhyun liked challenging their teachers or the tangents Wonpil went on in Social Sciences class; people who had worked their butts off to be in 3A and were pissed off by Yoon Dowoon's somnolent ways.

It would be understandable if they weren't so *mean* about it.

"But Wonpilie," Jinyoung whispered during a long break between two classes. "Is he all right? Like, medically."

"I don't know. I think so? He's just bored by how easy everything is." Wonpil shrugged.

They'd been partnered up for a Korean Lit project before; Dowoon had been retiring and shy, but a good partner nevertheless. Sometimes he smiled and it was cute. Sometimes Wonpil thought he should have tried harder to make friends, but back then Sungjin had eclipsed everything else.

"God," Jinyoung sighed. "I wish I knew what _that's_ like."

"Don't we all?" Wonpil said wryly. "I feel like the class president should be intervening, though..."

"I mean ... he still looks dead asleep."

"Min-ssaem will wake him up though. She likes her debates too much."

"I like her debates, Jinyoungie."

" _You_ like her debates too much," Jinyoung sighed again, "you and Jaehyung."

He yawned and stretched. He was on the dance team, and they had a showcase at the summer festival. Wonpil had already promised to go and cheer him on — another way in which his life was stretching at the seams, bit by bit.

Their discussion was all for moot, anyway, because there was a sharp "Yah!" from the back of the classroom. A hush fell over the room as everyone goggled at the unfolding scene.

"Knock it off." It was unmistakeably Kang Younghyun's voice. "Don't you guys have anything better to do?"

One of the guys who'd been prodding at Dowoon scowled up at him. "What's it to you, good-for-nothing?"

Wonpil watched, mouth slightly open, as a muscle ticked in Kang Younghyun's jaw — he'd never, _never_ in all the five years they'd been classmates so far seen him like this.

"Fuck you," said Younghyun, teeth slightly gritted. "I'm not the one who had to claw their way up from wherever, am I?"

"Wow," murmured Jinyoung. "Ow."

"Maybe you should learn how to work hard."

"Maybe you should grow up, fuckhead."

Despite the cold, intense look of disdain on Younghyun's face, the barely leashed aggression in every line of his body, Wonpil was suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating and the way the afternoon light was glinting off the totally non-regulation highlights in Younghyun's hair.

He was abruptly distracted from the drama and turned back to the front to fiddle around with his pencil-case, wide-eyed.

"This is terrible," he murmured to himself.

"Oh, it is," Jinyoung said, blithely unaware of the internal catastrophe Wonpil was undergoing. "Min-ssaem is like five metres down the corridor right now and looking very cross."

*

Wonpil had heard from Jaehyung who had heard from Seolhyun who had been principle witness and instigator that Kang Younghyun had lost a part-time job.

This in no way prepared him for running into his classmate at the music shop he usually patronised.

"Na-ssaem," Wonpil called out, shouldering his way through the door, "did my order come in?"

"I have no idea," said an ironic voice that definitely wasn't the shopkeeper's. "What did you order?"

"Kang Younghyun!" Startled, Wonpil let the door swing shut on Sungjin. "You — what?"

To his utter bewilderment, Kang Younghyun cracked a grin. To his _utter horror_ , Kang Younghyun really looked quite charming when he was smiling.

"I work here now. It's a better gig than most, I have to admit."

The door tinkled open, Sungjin grumbling under his breath on his way in.

Abruptly, Wonpil remembered that night the autumn before, when he and Sungjin had run across Younghyun grinning at Kim Seolhyun in a playground. Sungjin had looked so _heartbroken_. Oh dear.

"Na-ssaem is very kind," Wonpil said, praying that all awkwardness was only in his mind. He glanced nervously at Sungjin, whose face betrayed nothing but surprise.

"He is," agreed Younghyun. "So, what were you waiting for? I can check the back for you."

Sungjin gave him a light push and wandered off to go look at the guitars on display.

"Um, I ordered the —- edition of Schubert's Sonata in E Flat Major?"

Younghyun blinked at him. "That sounded like a sneeze."

"Oh —!" Wonpil burst out laughing. "Sorry, here —" He dug out a pen from his bag and scribbled the name down on the notepad lying on the counter between them.

"This is not what you said," Younghyun said accusatorily. "But whatever. I'll be back out in a bit."

He took a little more than a bit. Bored, Wonpil drifted over to the display piano and started playing the Chopin etude he'd been working on.

"Is that for auditions?" Sungjin was asking, when there was a triumphant shout from the back.

"I FOUND YOUR SNEEZE!" Younghyun's bellow preceded him into the showroom.

"Has he always been this weird?" Wonpil whispered to Sungjin.

Equally quietly, Sungjin replied, "I have no fucking clue."

"Maybe it's the stress."

"It's fucking expensive," announced Younghyun as he scanned the score. "What the fuck."

"Thank you," said Wonpil drily, getting up and going over. "I know. Do you swear at all your customers like this?"

"No, only the special ones."

Wonpil found himself inexplicably blushing while he paid.

Behind him, Sungjin coughed.

When they had left the shop and were waiting for their bus, Sungjin said, "I change my mind."

"Hmmm?"

"Kang Younghyun's weirdness. It's not stress."

Wonpil looked curiously over. "Then what? Sentimentality over graduating?"

There was a smug, knowing smile on Sungjin's face. Wonpil didn't like it a single bit.

"Nope," said his best friend cheerfully. "Definitely not."

*

Continuing his streak of randomly popping up in Wonpil's life, Kang Younghyun showed up at hagwon for once.

"Yo," he said, dropping into the cubicle next to Wonpil all of a sudden.

Wonpil couldn't help startling. "Oh — Kang Younghyun-sshi, what are you doing here?"

Younghyun squinted at him. "I found your sneeze for you, I think we can drop the honorifics."

" _Schubert_ ," Wonpil hissed. "It's _Schubert_."

"Yeah, whatever, so. No more honorifics?" He looked weirdly hopeful. "We've been classmates for five years."

Wonpil put his pencil down. "I didn't think you noticed."

Abruptly, Younghyun went back to looking impenetrably cool. "Do I look that oblivious?"

"Well, no, I just meant —"

"Yah," said Han Yeri, who went to a very competitive girls' school in Cheongdam-dong. "Shut up, some of us are trying to get into Seouldae here."

"Aren't you all," muttered Younghyun, but he unzipped his backpack and withdrew his notebooks.

Wonpil was suddenly seized by a strong curiosity — what was Younghyun aiming for, if not the top three? Did he even want to go to university? He never seemed the type, even though he had always been in the top class along with Wonpil. Maybe he was going to apply overseas? Did his parents have the money for it? But then why would he be arbite-ing? Was he bored?

"Stop staring at me, Kim Wonpil," whispered Younghyun. "The solution to that differential equation isn't on my face."

Blushing, Wonpil whipped hastily back around.

Two problem sets later, he remembered, and scribbled a quick note without thinking:

_Didn't we agree? Just say Wonpil._

He lobbed it over the low divider between their cubicles.

A soft snort drifted across. The scrap of paper followed in short order.

_Wonpil-ah, you never actually agreed out loud.  
_ _\- Younghyun_

*

Jinyoung's dance showcase was right at the start of the summer holidays.

"It's so hot, how are you not dying," complained Wonpil.

Dripping sweat, Jinyoung took the cup full of watermelon that Wonpil had bought for him. "That's why it's in the school hall, dummy. So, what did you think, Sungjin-sshi?"

Sungjin, whom Wonpil had dragged along to support his new best friend, gave him a thumb's up. "Amazing. Wish I could dance like that."

"You scare children when you dance."

"So does my noona," Jinyoung said, possibly in an attempt at comfort. Sungjin simply shrugged and did a silly dance move, the kind that made his baby nieces burble with laughter. Because babies with Park genes knew no fear.

There was a lengthy pause from Jinyoung.

"I told you," said Wonpil, and took back the cup of watermelon to steal a slice.

"Anyway, so what plans do you have for summer?" Jinyoung asked.

"Other than studying and practising?"

"Yeah, other than that."

Wonpil shrugged, thinking about the cool hagwon room and the cold bottles of iced coffee Younghyun would always bring along from the cafe next to the music shop.

"Maybe a music camp for elementary school kids. I haven't got confirmation yet, but my voice teacher recommended me."

"Oh, _children_ ," said Jinyoung a little dreamily. "I love kids."

"You can come help if you want. There's music and movement."

"Yah, don't go around offering jobs when you don't even have one in the first place."

Sungjin prodded him and said, "I'm going to go get a drink."

"Oh ..." Wonpil looked after his departing back. "Do you think. Do you think he feels left out?"

Jinyoung bit his lip. "Well. He has to learn how to share, eventually."

"Learn to —" Wonpil snorted. "I think you're on your way to becoming a kindergarten teacher already."

*

Jinyoung got a different summer job instead, so Wonpil didn't really expect to see any familiar faces at the music camp.

He really should have known better. Kang Younghyun seemed to be popping up everywhere in his life this year.

"You never mentioned this," he said while they were preparing welcome packs for the campers.

Younghyun raised one fine eyebrow at him. "Neither did you, Wonpil-ah."

"...True. You have two jobs now?"

"No, the shop's closed for a month. Old man's visiting family up north. Needed another job. He recommended me."

Wonpil squinted at him. As far as he knew, Younghyun's experience with music was limited to selling scores and reciting facts about the various instruments displayed for sale. He was more likely to be found playing pick-up basketball than in the music rooms during lunch.

"Do you even _like_ kids?" Wonpil asked, at last. He folded the last tiny t-shirt in his stack into its corresponding bag.

A quicksilver grin passed across Younghyun's face. "As a matter of fact, Kim Wonpil, I do." Unexpectedly, devastatingly, he threw his head back with a bark of laughter. "Take that look off your face, why do you look so dubious?"

"I'll believe it when I see it," muttered Wonpil, and got quickly up to take the bags out to the front.

He was hard-pressed to deny Younghyun's chemistry with children later that morning, though.

"Younghyunie-hyung!" screamed two small children in delighted tandem as they hung off Younghyun's arms. There was a girl on his back, and a little boy who was standing on his feet, trying to climb his legs.

Wonpil watched agog, hands held by two slightly more sedate kids, as Younghyun swayed under the weight.

Little Seungminnie tugged on his hand. "Hyung, can we — too?"

"Oh no." Wonpil sat promptly down on the floor. "I'll die if you try that on me."

Seungmin peremptorily climbed into his lap anyway, glaring at Yuna who was trying to edge him out, and a third unidentifiable kid glommed onto his back.

"Okay!" Wonpil displaced both small humans out of his lap to either side, raising the pitch of his voice. "Let's play the clapping game! Who wants to play the clapping game with me!"

"You guys are naturals," said Hyerim-ssaem a few minutes later, when she came in with the tea cart. A circle of five kids had formed with Wonpil at the head. Younghyun was still stomping around the room with his four, though now to the rhythm of the claps.

"Faster!" cried the kid — had some English name? — on his back. "Faster!"

"Mercy," wheezed Younghyun, gently sinking to his knees.

It was maybe testament to how well they both worked with kids that after only a day, all nine of the tiny terrors dissolved into a mass of crying and whining after afternoon tea, when Wonpil and Younghyun had to leave. It took some convincing and Hyerim-ssaem applying her teacher voice before they were set free.

"Out of the frying pan into the fire," said Younghyun drily, when they were on the bus towards their _hagwon_. "I'm going to sue the old man for emotional damage."

Wonpil laughed. "I thought you liked kids."

"I do." Younghyun sounded morose. "That's why. Can't deal with crying kids every day."

What was this strange new world, Wonpil wondered, looking at Younghyun's reflection in the bus window, in which he was allowed to see beyond the cold, sharp front Younghyun projected at school.

"That's sweet," Wonpil said at last, and leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. Ignoring Younghyun's grumble, he said, "Wake me up when we get there," and drifted off.

*

"Let's not go to the academy," Younghyun said impulsively at the end of the first week. "I'm exhausted."

"You want to study elsewhere?"

"No. I want to — do you know how to swim?"

Wonpil blanched. "No."

"Oh." Younghyun looked a little crestfallen. "Okay, then let's go eat bingsu."

"Eh?"

"There's a good place nearby, come on."

Truth be told, Wonpil didn't much feel like studying either. The past week with the kids had wrung him out; he'd staggered home after work for an afternoon snack, forced himself to practise his audition pieces, and then fallen asleep right after dinner every night.

"Okay," he said, and — was entirely unprepared for the smile that spread across Younghyun's face. He dropped his gaze, feeling his face heat up. "Um, where...?"

"Down this alley." Younghyun sounded _cheerful_. "And then just a little bit more, at the bird cages ..."

The dessert cafe that Younghyun brought him to was well-hidden, two floors up a narrow doorway in an unprepossessing building.

It was old and traditional, with a hand-cranked ice shaving machine and about four flavours on the menu. Wonpil got the injeolmi, and Younghyun got the comparatively updated summer fruits flavour.

This was shaping up to be a summer of discoveries: find new eating places fit for a high school student's budget, exploring new neighbourhoods, stumbling across new expressions on Kang Younghyun's face. It was fascinating.

"You know ..." Wonpil scraped idly at the bingsu mountain in his bowl. "You're so..."

"So?"

"Different." Wonpil looked up, smiled weakly. Younghyun had his face cradled in one hand; he looked sleepy and content in the honey-warm evening sunlight pouring in through the window, like a big cat. "From how you are in school. Warm."

"Hmm." Younghyun contemplatively ate a spoon of his fruit-covered bingsu. "And I'm cold in school."

"You have to know what impression you give. Do you do it on purpose?"

Younghyun gave him a long, thoughtful look.

"Not really, at the start. People just left me alone, and ..." Younghyun shrugged, mouth tugging wryly to one side. "To be honest, I've always just found everything so ..." he grimaced. "Petty, anyway."

Wonpil thought about Younghyun losing his temper earlier in the year, when their new classmates had been poking poor, napping Dowoon. Thought about the way he always seemed to be watching from the back, but never participated in the gossip.

"I guess I can see that," Wonpil said slowly.

He got another smile.This time, it was pleased and — well, their schoolmates definitely wouldn't leave Younghyun alone if they ever saw him look like this. He'd probably get more Valentine's Day chocolates than Jinyoungie. More than Seolhyun got on White Day, or at least before she'd started going out with some cool college _eonnie_ who had a car.

The questions Wonpil wanted to ask most, though, he held under his tongue, secret and safe: _And me? What about me? Why now? Why me?_

*

"Well, you two are cosy," Jinyoung observed when school started back up again.

Wonpil blinked at him. Sungjin had walked him to his classroom door, but that wasn't anything significant; they'd been discussing the upcoming season of the EPL. It wasn't a conversation that could be ended easily.

"I had to convince him of how wrong he is about the Spurs' chances," he said.

"Not — oh man, not _Sungjin_."

"Then who?"

"The resident ice prince, that's who." Jinyoung jerked his head to the back of the classroom, where Younghyun had already installed himself, bright and early. Shocking. "You totally waved at him when you came in."

"Well, I mean ..." Wonpil trailed off. He didn't know how to explain that he'd spent practically his entire summer break _with_ Younghyun, and that they'd last seen each other on Sunday at _hagwon_ , and ... there really was no explanation, was there. "I don't know, just being friendly?"

Jinyoung's scrutinising look didn't let up for a few more seconds, before he rolled his eyes. "Well, don't abandon me for the back of the classroom, that's what I'm saying."

"Jinyoungie! I would never!"

"Good," said Jinyoung. "Because I chose you to sit next to and I don't want to have to swap with anyone else."

"Oh goodness, I'm not going to — there's no reason for me to want to sit in the back anyway."

"Mmhmm." Jinyoung let the pause spin out long enough for Wonpil's cheeks to start incomprehensibly warming. Then Jinyoung said, "Oh! Souvenirs from Jejudo, I almost forgot —"

And everything was forgotten in the ensuing excitement of _presents_.

*

The remaining time he had as a teenager was flying by terribly fast. He hated it, the way it seemed like ... like the more he wanted to hold on, the more time was slipping through his hands like sand.

"That sounds right," said Sungjin, on one Saturday when they'd decided to study together in his family's apartment. Not that they were getting much studying done.

Sungjin had made his own set of friends in his new class, and had always had his little a capella group going on the side. But he'd made time even though the _suneung_ was in two weeks. Wonpil was pleased to still be an important part of his life.

"And then we'll be in the army or whatever."

"And then time will move like mud," Wonpil said dramatically. "That's what my cousin told me."

"Are you enlisting straight away?"

Wonpil frowned. "Maybe, or I'll finish first year of college first. If I even get in. I don't know. You?"

Sungjin slanted him a sidelong look. They were lying upside down on Sungjin's family's sofa, legs thrown over the back in the way Sungjin's _eomma_ absolutely abhorred. "I've been auditioning for some agencies."

Wonpil scrambled upright in a hurry. "Holy fuck, what?"

"Shhhh, it's a — not a secret, but —"

"But you haven't told anyone yet?" Wonpil hissed.

"I've told _you_ ," Sungjin hissed back.

This made Wonpil feel all warm and pleased, too. But in a very different way from before. That was good, he decided.

"When are you going to —"

"If I pass auditions," said Sungjin solemnly. "But I feel like, I have to try. At least once, before university or the army."

"Wow." Wonpil leaned back and smacked Sungjin on the calf. "Look at you, going after our childhood dreams."

"Don't say that, we're still children."

Wonpil sighed. "Not for much longer."

"For now we are." Sungjin struggled upright. "Come on. Let's play something mindless and childish."

*

And then the great held breath of the year was exhaled all over Korea, and the winter holidays came. Wonpil had done well enough that he thought he had a good fighting chance of getting into his target teacher colleges. But there were of course still the live auditions, the interviews, and each college's own entrance exams to prepare for.

"You look like you're going to drop dead." Younghyun, who was being very mysterious about his college plans, started forcibly packing Wonpil's bag away for him. "Come on, pack up."

Wonpil looked blearily up from his notes. He'd got sick of the _hagwon_ and come to study while Younghyun was finishing his shift at the music shop. "What?"

"Pack up," Younghyun said patiently. "I can see nothing is going into your brain right now."

They took the subway to Namdaemun Market, because Younghyun had a very specific craving. They ate their freshly griddled _yachae hotteok_ , billowing steam into the frigid air when Wonpil nibbled his open. Paper cups in hand, they plunged into the market proper, wandering into random shops and watching touts shill their wares with amusement.

"Have you seen Japanese ads?" Younghyun asked, whilst they watched an ajusshi dressed up in a three piece suit perform a rap about the miracle backache cure he was selling.

Wonpil couldn't tear his eyes away. "Japanese? No?"

"They're like this. Just ... out of the world. It's nuts, but they're geniuses." Younghyun sounded admiring. Wonpil wondered if that was what he was into. Marketing. It was weird to think about, Younghyun as an office worker somewhere in the future. Being an adult.

"Send me a link," said Wonpil, and finally found the willpower to leave backache ajusshi behind.

If it had been any season other than winter, when the air was so cold his nose hurt if he ducked out of his scarf for too long, the market would've been too much. Too many sounds, colours, people. As it was, it was almost peaceful like this — following Younghyun on his meandering path through the market.

He watched Younghyun flirt with halmeonis and come away with nothing but lots of compliments and admonishments to come back when he was earning lots of money. Looked at the things Younghyun showed him, shared the skewers of fishcake Younghyun bought on a whim. Turned his brain off and soaked in the moment.

In a large fabric stall, next to the building with the supposedly famous kalguksu, Wonpil got caught up in a conversation with the halmeoni owner. She was from Incheon, like Wonpil's own grandparents. He looked up at the tail end of their conversation and caught Younghyun watching with an unfamiliar expression on his face. Not anything he had discovered that summer. Wonpil felt a shiver go down his spine; it had nothing to do with the cold.

"Feel better?" Younghyun asked, when they'd finished exploring and had returned to the subway entrance.

Wonpil breathed in the sharp, cold air, scented with the smells of the market. Hot oil, seafood tang, dried herbs, musty things. His head felt dizzyingly clear. He smiled at Younghyun and nodded.

Younghyun smiled back down at him. "Good," he said, and they went down into the subway.

On the train home, it struck Wonpil. It wasn't quite Christmas yet, but if it had been — this could have been a date. He shook his head at himself. Too fanciful.

But still, even on the cold walk home from the station because the bus wasn't due to come in another twenty-seven minutes, the thought stuck.

*

Winter break was passing in a blur of practice and sleep and college applications.

Jinyoung was skiing in Gangwon-do with his family by day and frantically swotting by night.

Sungjin passed an audition and came charging in through their apartment door while Wonpil was wrestling with a really annoying passage. It had been half an hour. He almost yelled at Sungjin. Swallowed it just in time.

After the mutual hysterics, Wonpil calmed down enough to joke, "Don't forget me when you're famous."

Unexpectedly, Sungjin smiled soft and shiny-eyed at him. "As if I ever could, Wonpilie."

Wonpil blinked. "Are you getting sentimental on me?"

Sungjin huffed and got up. "See if I try to have emotions at you again, Kim Wonpil. Okay, I'm going to go tell other people now."

"Sungjin," he said quietly, leaning against the coat cupboard. "Seriously though, congratulations."

Sungjin beamed at him and saluted, before bounding away.

Wonpil shut the door behind him, went back to his piano bench, and let out a shaky sigh.

He wanted — he wanted something completely different now, he knew. He wanted children tugging at his jean legs, he wanted clapping games, he wanted the different sort of pressure that came with trying to pass on this love of music. He knew nothing would stop him from singing or playing piano in his own time to his own audiences.

And yet.

The tricky passage full of turns and all those hated octaves in the left hand part was waiting for him, but Wonpil felt abruptly _finished_. No sense trying to bull his way through it again. His piano teachers always talked about practising smart.

He looked at the clock. Looked out the window at the snow-covered treetops. Thought about fresh hotteok and uncomplicated happiness.

He shut the piano lid and went to find his phone.

 _Younghyunie_ , he typed, _what are you doing now_?

*

Mid-January. Scarves, parkas, huddling into hoods.

Thick snow on the ground, every old person Wonpil knew tutting about how the last time this had happened the economy hadn't crashed yet.

It felt like an ominous sign, maybe.

"Or like, a blank canvas. All that white," Jinyoung pointed out. They were eating by the windows in a cafe near school, next to the old-school radiators faithfully pumping out heat.

Jung Bina, who'd already been sitting there with her laptop out, gave them both blank looks. "How are you guys so imaginative."

"I don't know, Bina-yah." Wonpi, sunk his fork into the chestnut mousse cake he'd decided to splurge on for getting through to the final round of auditions for his top choices. "How are you so good at science."

"We're in an arts school," said Bina patiently. "I'm not good at science; I'm just not bad at it."

Wonpil shook his head, smiling at her wit.

Sitting the way he was, he accidentally made eye contact with Younghyun, who'd got _another job_ over the break. Sometimes, Wonpil wanted to ask if everything was all right at home, but that seemed too intrusive.

Younghyun had been napping at a table in a corner before his shift started, but at some point he'd woken up, apparently. There was a sleepy softness in his gaze that seemed too private to behold; Wonpil was embarrassed, to have caught it. Younghyun probably wasn't even fully awake.

They hadn't talked directly in school, not very much. Younghyun never showed up for their class's group interview prep sessions.

It made all the things that had happened over summer, and over the winter break seem like a dream.

Except Younghyun was still there. He was still there in the music shop, bantering with Na-ssaem whenever Wonpil stopped by. He was still there whenever Wonpil texted him, asking if he wanted to hang out.

"Aren't you tired?" his noona asked, home from university for a visit. "You've just auditioned all week long. Now look at you running around in this cold."

"I'm young," he replied, tying his scarf firmly in place. It was still cold in late January. "Unlike you."

"Yah!" Yeeun-noona shouted. "Come here, brat!"

He danced away from her swipe out the door, laughing merrily.

But she got the last word anyway, making him glad his beanie was covering his ears as she called, "Enjoy your date!!"

*

"Hey," Younghyun said, sounding suddenly subdued one Friday night in late February. They'd stumbled out of a noraebang that they'd gone to on a whim after Younghyun's shift at the cafe. "Do you want to get coffee?"

"Coffee?" Wonpil repeated. "Now? _Again_?"

"I'll share a cab back with you."

"That's not —" Wonpil paused and looked closely at him. "Okay. Sure."

They went to the Tom-n-Tom's nearby. Younghyun had his coffee; Wonpil got tea, strong enough to keep him awake until he got home.

"So?" Wonpil kicked Younghyun's foot lightly under the table. "What is it?"

He propped his chin up in one hand and curiously watched Younghyun opened his mouth, closed it. Took a sip. Inhaled. Took another sip. Went through this about three times before shuttering all that hesitation away under the old-familiar coldly expressionless look.

"I just wanted to tell you..." Younghyun looked down, mask cracking. "I got an acceptance letter."

Wonpil squinted. "A _letter_?"

"For overseas. College overseas."

A feeling of vertigo abruptly tilted the world off-axis.

"Oh," Wonpil managed. Blinked rapidly as he willed his brain into gear. Younghyun's vague allusions to interviews in December made more sense now. "Oh! But — that's good news!" He made himself smile. "That's really good, isn't it? That's amazing! Where?"

Younghyun looked up from his mug, face still very still. "Canada. Toronto."

"Ah..." Wonpil had only the vaguest idea where Toronto was. Somewhere far away. "Canada. Maple syrup?"

He smiled when Younghyun laughed at last at that, face crumpling. "Yes, maple syrup and hockey."

"And English," Wonpil mused. "You've always been good at it, though."

Younghyun shrugged, looking embarrassed now. "My parents speak it, so..."

"So ... wait, why didn't you — I mean, why so mysterious about it all?"

Younghyun's embarrassment faded into something else. Some _other_ kind of embarrassment, almost like shame. "I didn't want to jinx it. And it ... I mean, not everyone. Gets to. Go? It's expensive. I didn't want to make it seem like — I don't know."

"Oh." Wonpil chewed on the edge of his mug, before reaching out tentatively to grasp Younghyun's wrist. "It's okay. I wouldn't have minded. But it's okay. When are you going?"

Younghyun looked away from him. "I leave late August."

August— but that was so _soon_. And Wonpil was going to be busy with college soon.

"Oh," he said again, feeling very stupid. "I —" he was saved from having to think of something else to say by his yawn.

"Okay." Younghyun drained his coffee and stood up. "That's what I wanted to say, so ... let's get you home."

Wonpil did end up having to take a taxi home, when they realised he wasn't going to catch his final bus transfer no matter what. Younghyun leaned in through the window of the cab he'd helped flag down to give the driver some cash, exactly like someone with part time jobs and money to spare.

For a split-second, Younghyun looked like he was about to say something, or — or kiss Wonpil's cheek, but he just said _get home safe_ , and leaned back out.

"A gentleman," said the taxi driver ajusshi, over the Hong Jinyoung number blaring from his radio. "Don't find lots like that, these days."

"Uh."

"You should be happy," continued the ajusshi.

"Oh," Wonpil murmured, closing his eyes. "I'm trying to be, I really am."

*

Wonpil wondered what it was about his fate, that he had to endure heartbreak twice in as many years. Wondered what he'd done in his past life to deserve this. Had to be grateful, in some small grudging measure, that the rollercoaster of feelings over the past two years had apparently deepened his musicality enough to impress his interviewers.

Time marched steadily on: he was enrolling in college, his parents were misty-eyed with pride, and Younghyun was still here, for now, on Katalk and on weekends. Sungjin had been sucked entirely into the trainee system, which honestly seemed utterly terrifying from his updates. Jinyoung was in another college on the other side of Seoul.

Already things were fragmenting as he moved into a new phase of his life and painfully creaked into making new friends. Unexpectedly — Dowoon was there in his orientation lecture. Wonpil gratefully sat down next to him.

"Him?" Younghyun laughed later that week when Wonpil caught him up at the bingsu place. Younghyun was trying to hit up all the old favourites before he moved away. Wonpil tried very hard not to think about the end date on these things. "Yeah, he plays the drums." A shadow passed over his face. "I don't think he really — had much else to do. At home."

"Oh," managed Wonpil. "I'll — I'll make friends with him."

Younghyun smiled at him, the warm sweet thing Wonpil had increasingly been thinking of as his own over the past year. "I'm sure you will," he said, and stole a tteok.

This strange in-between thing between them, Wonpil thought as he idly doodled during a lecture, was just — it was a _thing_. That much he was sure of, especially when one of his new yearmates had tried asking him out. He'd laughingly mentioned it to Younghyun, and Younghyun had looked blank for a full five seconds before letting out the most emotionless laugh Wonpil had ever heard.

But with Younghyun's departure so imminent, neither of them dared to say anything.

"Seriously?" Sungjin said, when Wonpil went all the way to Cheongdam-dong to catch him on an evening off. " _Say_ something. You'll feel better for it."

"What, like you?"

The words whipped out before Wonpil could take them back, and he clapped his hand to his mouth too late. He barely breathed as Sungjin stared at him, those big eyes widening further in surprise.

Then Sungjin snorted, punched him in the arm. "Yes, you idiot, exactly like me. Follow my glowing example for once, would you?"

*

Sungjin's words rattled around in Wonpil's mind long after their meet-up. It didn't help that now that the summer break had started, he had more free time to brood. At least that's what his noona called it. She was very stressed out and grumpy from preparing for the public service exam.

In the end, Wonpil screwed his courage to the sticking point on the day before Younghyun flew off.

By all rights, Younghyun should be spending time with his parents, but he'd come out to eat bindaetteok with Wonpil under straw-thatched eaves, and to listen to the mountain stream rushing past underneath them. He'd just shrugged when Wonpil apologised for monopolising his time. Said that he didn't know if he'd be able to find food this authentic in Toronto. Said he'd heard it didn't rain like this in Toronto: the steady lasting downpour of a summer storm, the unreplicable sounds of rain wicking off thatch, raindrops _plip-plop_ -ing into running water.

The rain stopped at some point, like a punctuation mark.

By tacit agreement, they went for a walk in the neighbourhood, meandering back to the subway station. Like neither of them really wanted to part. It was this, maybe, that had Wonpil stopping Younghyun outside a closed barbershop, draw him into a shadowed alley.

"Are you going to murder me?" Younghyun asked, sounding amused.

" _No_ ," Wonpil huffed. "Stop — let me —"

"Wonpilie?"

When, Wonpil thought faintly, had the Wonpil-sshi that by mutual agreement softened into Wonpil-ah, transmuted into this lightning thing?

"I — I'm sorry, I know you're leaving tomorrow," he said, staring at his toes. "But if I don't say anything now, it's just going to — to be worse. Forever. I think. And I should be brave, for once."

He chanced a look up. He had no idea what to make of the look on Younghyun's face.

"So —" he sucked in a breath, hugged his arms around himself. Tried to look into Younghyun's eyes and gave up when his eyes slid to focus on his right ear instead. "I like you, Kang Younghyun. You don't have to — oh!"

The breath was knocked out of him — Younghyun was hugging him. Tight. He was murmuring too fast into Wonpil's ear, curled over to make up for the half a head he had on Wonpil.

Eventually the tumble of words resolved into comprehensibility.

"Me too, Wonpilie," Younghyun was saying, over and over. "I'm going to miss you so much, I'm so sorry, thank you, I like you so, so much."

What, Wonpil thought even now, would their old high school classmates think to see Kang Younghyun like _this_. He didn't want them to, he found. This was all for him.

Younghyun went all the way back to Wonpil's house with him for the first time, held his hand right up to his front door.

"We have summers, right?" Wonpil swung their hands. "And — and afterwards."

"Yeah," said Younghyun, sounding a little hoarse. "After. We'll work it out."

Wonpil wondered if it was better or worse, to have left this to the last. Well, what was done was done.

"Kiss me?" He looked up beseechingly. "Just so — I just —" Words failed him; the feeling swelling up from deep inside too big to compress into just sound and air.

Younghyun nodded, eyes dark. Determined.

He leaned in; Wonpil leaned up.

They came together.

*

_8 years later_

Wonpil was immersed in marking when his doorbell rang.

He frowned; he wasn't expecting anyone, he didn't think. Unless his neighbour had locked himself out again.

Then his phone buzzed somewhere under the couch cushions.

There was a message, from — despite himself, despite all the disappointments and enduring hopes between then and now, his pulse quickened.

[ _1 unread message - Kang Younghyun_ **♥** _\- 380742.jpg_ ]

Wonpil opened the picture message and stared. That was — his — ?

He scrambled up and almost tripped over three different things in his mad dash for the door. He looked through the peephole and fumbled for the lock, flung his door open.

"Surprise, Wonpilie." Younghyun was grinning at him. His hair curled over his forehead; he was in a long black coat and had a large rolling suitcase next to him. There were dark shadows under his eyes and stubble on his cheeks. Wonpil wanted to kiss him and never stop. "Sorry I'm late. Can I come in?"

_********* _

**Omake  
**

Wonpil woke up to the clanging of pans and the smell of coffee.

Stumbled into the kitchen. Found Younghyun, shirtless under an apron and in sweatpants, pushing eggs around in a frying pan.

He looked up and smiled. "Wonpilie. You're up."

"You're really here." Wonpil went to him, feeling lost. Put his arms around Younghyun's middle to try and moor himself against the confusion. Younghyun adjusted naturally around him, lifting his left arm up and around to tuck Wonpil closer. "You didn't — you — why didn't you _tell me_?"

They'd talked only a few days ago, after all. Younghyun had looked tired, but that wasn't anything new. His work ran him ragged. He'd looked excited too, but Wonpil just assumed that was because — well. Because he was talking to him.

"I wanted to surprise you." Younghyun ducked down and kissed him on the temple. "I think I might've broken you instead, though."

"I'm just processing." Wonpil headbutted him and then sighed. "So how long are you on holiday for?"

The burner snicked off. The eggs were plated. The pan clinked back onto the stove.

Younghyun turned around to properly hold Wonpil. "For as long as you'll have me."

Wonpil stilled. He looked up. "You _quit your job_?!"

"No!" Younghyun's face crumpled into that dear, familiar laughter. "Wonpil-ah, no, I just got a transfer."

Wonpil'd seen his work game face on before, whenever he visited San Francisco, and Younghyun had to take conference calls from home. It looked a lot like his sharp, cold face from high school. This soft, happy, adoring look — it was all Wonpil's.

"Oh." Embarrassed, Wonpil put his face in Younghyun's chest. "That's a relief."

"I should say so." Younghyun walked the two of them out of his kitchen nook to where the table was, plate balanced in one hand. "But I am technically on holiday right now, until the end of next week. Adjustment period for me to find a place to live, et cetera."

Wonpil unburied himself to pout up at him. "But you're living with me, right? Younghyunie, I'm not letting you —"

"Yes, yes, but we should—" Younghyun hesitated, and disentangled them long enough to deposit Wonpil in a chair, the plate of eggs on the table, and kneel before him. If he proposed after springing this surprise, Wonpil was going to murder him. Luckily, all Younghyun said was, "...we should probably look for somewhere a little bigger?"

Wonpil glanced around his compact little officetel; it was good for one person who didn't cook a lot or go on shopping sprees. But his clothes already rotated through storage cubes that he stacked up in a corner of the main room, and the shelves were full to bursting. Younghyun had a point.

"Okay," he said. Tugged Younghyun up; he was going to make the knee injury he got in the army worse. "Come on, I want to eat your food. It's been so long."

Younghyun slid into the chair next to Wonpil, smiling. "Won't be anymore."

Starting in on their breakfast, Wonpil couldn't help beam back, happiness spilling like sunshine through him.

"Yes," he agreed, and pressed an eggy kiss to the corner of Younghyun's mouth. "It won't."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [the Korean Ministry of Education](http://english.moe.go.kr/sub/info.do?m=020105&s=english) for putting me out of my misery after too much time googling/watching rando Korean high school study vloggers trying to figure out Korean uni admissions TIMELINES. I don't even read high school AUs 99% of the time so what the fuck. 
> 
> also that omake exists because bysine wanted it.
> 
> anyway, if you enjoyed this! please! hit the kudos button, leave me a comment, and [possibly retweet](https://twitter.com/forochel/status/1293729820183060480)???


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